The Memories of Severus Snape
by Risa Stellen
Summary: A series of short stories from Snape's earliest memories to present day, covering all the questions to what made him the man he was in the series. Rated for future chapters.


A/N: Severus Snape and all Harry Potter related characters are property of J.K Rowling. Im just a very big fan of hers :)

I hope you enjoy this story,since reading the end of Deathly Hallows i couldn't wait to start writing a Snape oriented fic. 'The Memories Of Severus Snape' is going to be a collection of short stories about Snape when he was a child and what happened to him to make him the way he was in the books.

Also this will be my first Harry Potter Fic so please be kind :)

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**The Memories of Severus Snape**

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**1.The Oak Door**

There had been moments, when Severus Snape had been a young child where he had felt completely and utterly at peace. Though rare and unexpected they were they often happened usually when he was alone at home, when the wind blew through the crack in the kitchen window that his father refused to pay for to get fixed, up through the floorboards beneath him where he often heard his mother crying at night and past his bedroom door hissing through the keyhole as it died in the silent house.

Those voices, the ones that hounded his very existence day in and day out, where absent at the moment. And it was a rare treat to be able to come out his room without fear of being ridiculed and pointed at. With this in mind Severus without a moments hesitation lifted a dusted book from his bedside table and set off down the long winded stairs.

Severus Snape was only eight years old, but saw the world in a much different perspective then other children his age. For he himself was very different from other children. While other children liked to scream and yell, Severus yearned for peace and quiet as he had enough screaming and yelling in his home life; from his parents frequent arguments. He liked to read, but not the happy fairy tales that other children may like to read, but dark stories of murder and betrayal which as he thought was much closer to real life, and considered reading anything else a ignorant lie. His hair was lank and uncared for, and he often experienced women in the street mistaking him for a girl until they saw his sharp, pinched face and unforgiving scowl. His skin was as pale as flour; a mixture from lack of eating and constant hiding in his room. And so it wasn't surprising then, that Severus Snape did not have any friends, on the contrary he found socialising with other people one of life's greatest tortures. As his mother told him frequently,he was such a awkward, strange child.

Severus stepped into the hallway and looked around him, the cool air from the broken window downstairs causing goosebumps to form on his thin arms. The hallway's darkness was so familiar to him that he headed directly to the wall to his right, feeling the wall with his fingers to feel small tears in the wallpaper he had made to tell himself where the steps was; as this was the only way to tell as he stepped down the broken stairs to try and escape the risk of falling. Unfortunately he was not always lucky and the wall beside him showed many larger tears in the wallpaper were from were he had pulled it as he fell. The wallpaper that was once a rich black was peeling and faded, and spiders had spun thick cobwebs so that the ceiling could hardly be seen. His mother hated coming upstairs and his father was too proud to live in such a dismal room , so the entire of the upstairs had been given to Severus to live in, unless relatives came to stay. Which they never did.

As he made his way down the stairs, he passed a large painting full of grandeur and gloom, which fitted in perfectly with the mood of the house. In the picture stood a thin wiry woman dressed in a black dress that trailed on the floor, embroidery of black roses decorating the fabric. Her hair, thick and shiny was scraped back into a tight bun on the back of her head, glorying her sharp features in which Severus had inherited from her. Beneath her sitting in a gold plated chair, stood a thick set man dressed in a matching black cloak that was draped around his shoulders with a air of nobility. His hair was balding, but cut short so that it didn't appear so, and in comparison to the woman behind him he had quite small feminine features that he had attempted to hide under a short cut moustache. Severus at always found the picture a sad sight, that these two people who he called his mother and father, how they stood next to each other without a airs affection between them. Their hands far apart. Eyes bearing straight ahead. Both resenting each others presence.

When at last he had reached the bottom of the stairs, his feet found their way not to the living room but straight ahead towards the front door. The front door was grand and oversized, with thick stained glass of what appeared to be a snake wrapped around a oak tree which Severus had been told was his family's crest. Severus often thought that the size of the door in comparison to the small run down house of theirs looked absurd, but his father insisted that the door was a precious family heirloom and to not have it as their door would be a insult to their name . Not that Severus partially cared about their family's name, everyone in the town knew about their family's problems, so he didn't see why a door would make such a difference.

He didn't think to dwell on such matters as he didn't consider them important, and turned his attention to the book he had been holding "A Beginners guide to the Dark Arts" and sat down facing the door as sunlight poured through it casting green and blue colours onto his pale face making him appear a glow.

He was pleased of of been able to get his hands on this book without his father's notice, and had taken a lot of planning to figure out how he would take the book from his father's study without his knowledge. He couldn't of course of asked to borrow it, as his father would of refused point blank as he considered Severus to be a clumsy fool of a child, who would break everything he touched. Nor would he of given him money to buy one for himself, as he didn't believe in such things. So borrowing without his permission had been the only option. The book was like all the others that his father kept and was bound in a thick fancy leather pouch, wrapped in black ribbon. To the young Severus opening the book felt like unwrapping a present at Christmas, and he tore into the parcel, and flicked through it hastily. The book was what he expected, a list of potions and horrible pictures of people effected by their outcome and each page was decorated in fine delicate artwork in gold ink that Severus couldn't help but run his fingers over. After composing himself the turned to the beginning of the book, as it seemed like the most sensible place to start;

**_"__The reader of this book should heed,_**

**_The warning that i shall now speak,_**

**_Though dark arts shall bring you power anew,_**

**_When in doubt it is best to lose,_**

**_As something s are best lost to gain,_**

**_And our hearts are our greatest tools to our name,_**

**_Never forget the sins of the past,_**

**_And glory will be yours to hold at last._**

**_- Di Nov in_**

"Glory will be yours to hold at last.." Severus mind wondered with possibility , his lips feeling dry as a smile tinged with greed appeared on his young face. Yes, he wanted power, power to prove people wrong about him. He wanted not just to succeed but to overachieve, the bitter resentment of his current situation the only thing that it felt like he had to live for. At last it appeared he had found his goal in life, a suppressed feeling of happiness welling through him as he laid back on the floor, the different colours formed by the door seemed to dance around him as he moved in celebration.

For a moment he could not think, because he was thinking too much. Instead he lifted his hand in the air making waving movements of spells he had practised and learnt how to do in his spare time, muttering under his breath as he did so. Soon he paused looking at the door, and made a sharp flick of his wrist , imaging what it would be like to smash the door without fear. The feeling of confidence welled up inside him again.

His fingers outstretched beneath where he lay he pawed the rough carpet between his fingers unconsciously, its course touch bringing a spark of feeling that ran through his very being and tingled his sense to the point it bung about a bigger smile. And even though the pads on his fingers where beginning to go numb at its touch, he continued run them backwards and forwards as if to remind himself that these precious moments where he could escape from all his problems and fears were real, and the he was not just dreaming again.


End file.
